The Secrets in the Lies
by ecv
Summary: Brennan isn't as forgiving when Booth fakes his death. I don't own Bones.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: I found this in some files and thought you might enjoy it. I've borrowed some of the scenes for other stories, so some of it might sound familiar to you. But in case some of you wanted something new to read this weekend, I thought you might be willing to overlook it. The finished product is about 7 chapters._

 _I always thought Brennan forgave Booth a little too easily for faking his death, so this time, he doesn't get off so easily._

 _As usual, I don't own Bones._

Booth rushed into her office, his jaw still aching from the vicious punch she'd delivered at his funeral. It hadn't made sense at the time, but he understood now. The list of people that were supposed to be notified hadn't been followed. For two weeks, Bones thought he was dead.

It terrified him to think of what she thought of him now. It hadn't been his fault, not really, but he couldn't stop the stab of guilt that assaulted him each time he considered what had happened. She would see it as a breaking of a trust; he didn't trust her enough to call himself and let her know.

To her, that would almost be worse than his death.

She was sitting at her desk, looking at photos on her computer and making notes. He assumed that it was something they had worked on together, but a closer glance told him the bones were old, much older than Booth would be concerned with.

But those old bones were meaningless today. They had a new case with a body to look at and witnesses to interview. He hoped that by starting right away, they would be able to put this horrible incident behind them.

Looking up, Brennan watched him walk in, still not quite able to believe that he was standing in front of her. She'd spent two weeks blaming herself for his death. Two weeks crying more tears than a human body should be able to produce.

It was hard to describe, even to herself, what his death had done to her. Brennan wished she could just eliminate those two weeks from her memory. There were times she wished she could erase Booth from her memory as well.

Letting someone that close to her was dangerous, just as she'd always assumed it would be.

Booth was no different from the rest. They all left without giving her feelings a thought. She was done with emotions, with people, with all of it. The bones of the deceased expected nothing. They didn't hurt you, they never left you.

They certainly never lied to you.

Booth's death forced her to face feelings she hadn't been ready to acknowledge. She'd missed his voice, his casual touches, the way he explained people's actions and emotions in a way that made sense to her. Without Booth, the world was a confusing place she couldn't deal with on her own.

For two weeks, he'd left her adrift, with no safe place to go to. Now, he was back, expecting everything to be the same.

But she wasn't the same. She'd come to accept him as part of her life, then lost him. And that made her angry and scared. Of those two, anger was the safest emotion right then.

So she took a deep breath and reinforced the walls she'd rebuilt over the last two weeks. He wouldn't break them down again.

"Booth," she greeted coolly. "Is there something I can help you with?"

The tone of her voice brought him up short. He hadn't heard it sound like that since that first day in the airport, after they hadn't spoken for almost a year.

"We have a case, Bones!" He slapped his hands together enthusiastically. He was thankful at that moment she couldn't always read emotions well because his excitement sounded very fake. "We have to get going before they touch your remains. You know how you hate that."

She set down her pen carefully, taking the time to consider her words. "I don't have a case, Booth."

"A murder," he said. He pointed over his shoulder. "We need to get going."

She shook her head. "Then you have a case. I don't have a case."

"If I have a case, you have a case. Partners, remember? It hasn't been that long, Bones."

Her eyes darkened and turned cold. Anyone else would have stepped back at the look, but he held his ground. "We aren't partners any longer, Booth."

He adjusted his tie. "Of course we are."

She didn't sigh, didn't show any visible reaction to his declaration. She was remote, distant. "The day you…died," she began. Her voice hesitated before the last word, but she swallowed and continued, "I requested that my partnership with FBI be terminated. That request was granted."

"But I'm alive, Bones. You were supposed to be told that I was alive."

"And I wasn't. But it doesn't matter now. I have no intention of reestablishing that partnership. With you or anyone else." She picked up the pen and returned her attention to the computer, effectively dismissing him.

Booth watched her, debating whether to let the temper firing just beneath the surface explode. Was she serious? Yes, mistakes had been made, but to walk away from a partnership, their partnership, because of it?

He wasn't going to let it happen.

He watched her, waiting for her to look up and announce that she was kidding. That in the last two minutes she had reconsidered and was writing a letter to reestablish the partnership.

When she didn't do anything but continue to write neat little notes on her pad, he let his temper snap. He grabbed the pen from her hand and threw it, out the door and across the lab. Hodgins glanced up, took one look at Booth, and immediately turned back to whatever project he was working on.

The only person who didn't react was Brennan. She picked up a second pen from the desk and went back to taking notes.

A second crash had more than just Hodgins looking up. Cam appeared in the door, only to back away as Booth slammed it in her face.

"Do I have your attention now, Bones?" Booth growled. "Are we actually going to talk about this?"

Brennan looked at the floor next to her desk. "Was it really necessary to throw all of my stuff on the floor, Booth? Cam will be upset if you've messed up my notes on the project I'm doing for her." Her voice was calm.

But her heart was pounding. Booth rarely let his anger show, indicating just how deep his emotions were running. But she was angry, too, and had no intention of forgiving him right then.

"I don't give a shit what Cam is upset about." He kicked at the debris for emphasis. "What I care about is this crazy decision you made."

Brennan leaned back in her chair. "There is nothing crazy about it. The partnership was established between you and I as a mutual relationship between two entities. When one entity died, the partnership came to its logical conclusion."

"But one entity isn't, but I'm not dead," he snapped.

"Neither am I, Booth. One entity died, the other was left to suffer." She blinked hard, the first outward sign of emotion Booth had seen since he entered the office. The almost tears had him taking a mental step back. "This entity chooses to not ever go through that again. Therefore, the partnership is terminated."

Booth gaped at her. "So you'll do what? Stay in this office all day? Looking at bones that are older than time?"

"No bones are older than time. And studying bones is what I did before I started working with you. It's what I'll do again after you leave. I was good at it, Booth. If the Jeffersonian doesn't see that, there are many other institutions that do. Now, go back to the FBI."

She squeezed her hands together tightly on top of the desk. The surprise and hurt in Booth's eyes was almost enough to make her rethink her decision.

Almost.

He noted the knuckles of her clasped hands turning white and wondered if she would squeeze hard enough to break bones. "I'm not leaving, Bones."

"My name is Temperance Brennan," she said, getting to her feet. "We no longer work together. I expect you to address me professionally. Of course, now that we no longer work together, I imagine we won't see each other that much."

Would that be less painful than thinking he was dead, she wondered? Or would it hurt just as much, knowing he was within reach but still out of touch. She shook the tightness from her fingers and tried to not imagine the feel of his warm, alive skin beneath her fingertips.

It was obvious to him that she was angry. Angrier than he thought was possible while he sat in that safe house waiting for time to pass. He'd worried about the rest of them, but not about her. She was supposed to know.

He'd had nightmares while he was gone. Nightmares of her getting hurt without him to protect her. He woke up in a cold sweat more nights than not, praying to God that she was okay. None of his nightmares ever had her walking away in anger.

Her ignorance of the subterfuge had never been part of the nightmares either. She was supposed to be told. It was that fact he kept coming back to. He'd find the truth of what happened. He wanted to know, even if she didn't.

And whatever cracks he'd managed to make in those walls of hers were gone. Now, she'd not only reinforced them, but built them higher, stronger.

Brennan was walking past him toward the door, when he reached out and grabbed her arm. She looked down at his hand. "Let go of me, Booth," she ordered quietly.

"No," he said. "Not until you listen to what I have to say."

She pulled her arm away so violently, he was forced to let go to avoid hurting her. "No, you listen to me. We don't work together anymore. Find a new partner."

"Why won't you look at me, Bones?" Booth asked. His voice was soft suddenly, all his anger gone. What he felt was regret and fear. The punch she'd landed to his jaw hurt less than what she was doing to him now.

She lifted her eyes to his. There was nothing there. No fear, no anger, no pain, nothing. It was buried behind the mask she was wearing. The one she wore for everyone else to force them to keep their distance.

She'd never worn it for him until today.

Knowing she needed time, he forced himself to take a step back. "I won't find another partner, Bones. I work with no one but you."

She motioned with her hand toward the door. "Then go work alone, Booth. I'm sure you'll adjust. Just give it a couple of weeks."


	2. Chapter 2

Brennan watched him walk away until she couldn't see him anymore. She was pretty sure he made a turn after he was out of her view, towards Cam's office, but she knew if that was the case that Cam would be in to see her before long.

Regret wasn't an emotion she was used to feeling, but she was pretty sure that's what was racing through her system at that moment. Regret that she quickly pushed away. Her decision was made. It was final. The partnership was over. Change was inevitable, nothing lasted forever. She would adjust.

She was picking up items from the floor when Cam appeared in the door.

"Dr. Brennan," she greeted. "Is there something we need to talk about?" Booth had come into her office and Cam had been on the receiving end of his frustration and fear. Because even Cam knew the one thing Seeley feared more than anything was Dr. Brennan walking away from him.

So Cam had promised to try and talk to her, knowing it would be a waste of her time. Once Dr. Brennan made up her mind, only new evidence would change it. And Cam had nothing like that to offer her.

Brennan shook her head. "No, I don't think so. I'm on my way to bone storage now to work on that project we talked about last week."

She looked next to her desk at the pile on the floor. "Unless you mean this mess. You should talk to Booth about that, he is responsible for it."

"He already offered to clean up after you were out of the office." Walking in, Cam closed the door behind her. "You're a brilliant woman, Dr. Brennan. Please don't pretend you don't know why I'm here."

"I don't know why you're here," Brennan argued. "You haven't told me."

Cam sighed. When she was offered this job, it seemed like a perfect fit. Oversee a lab full of misfit scientists who just needed a leader. Except half the misfit scientists had crazy personalities. And the scientist in front of her, who was supposed to be an employee, acted like the boss half the time.

And despite her brilliance, Dr. Brennan had great difficulty with anything that wasn't literal. Which was why Cam fought the urge to roll her eyes when Dr. Brennan said she didn't know why she was there. She wasn't being difficult. She was just being her.

"Booth came into my office to tell me that you ended the partnership." Among other things, Cam thought. Heaven help the person who hadn't informed Dr. Brennan as Booth had requested. There was no cave dark enough to hide them.

Brennan stepped away from the mess on the floor to move to her desk. She started to pack notes into a folder. "I did. Two weeks ago. I have the letter granting my request if you want to see it."

"I don't need to see it. I wrote it," Cam said. "What I don't understand is why you are still insisting the partnership is over when your partner is clearly alive."

"Yes," Brennan agreed. "He is clearly alive. And so am I. But the partnership is not."

Cam considered how to say what she needed to say to the woman who was slowly becoming a friend. On several occasions, Cam and seen the heart of gold beneath the awkward exterior. She knew Dr. Brennan was hiding something.

No matter what Brennan was showing to the world right now, she should be thrilled Booth was alive. So what was going on?

"Is there a reason you don't want to work with Booth anymore?" she asked. Getting Brennan to admit to any feelings was almost impossible, but sometimes a clue could be found in her scientific reasoning.

Brennan slammed the file closed a little harder than necessary. "I'm too angry to work with him. And anger is not conducive to a successful partnership."

And hurt, she wanted to add. And betrayed. All he had to do was call her. Ten-seconds, one call. In two weeks, he surely could have found time to do that.

But she didn't say any of it. She just continued to watch Cam with those cool blue eyes. That look had reduced more than one student to tears over the years.

Remembering her time as a cop on the streets of New York, Cam thought of all the times she'd been angry at a partner or a colleague. "It's okay to be angry," she said slowly.

As if that proved her point, Brennan nodded. "If it's okay to be angry, then logically what I feel right now is perfectly normal."

Her head spinning, Cam watched the sharp movements Brennan was making. She was clearly upset by something, not just mad. She considered what Brennan had just said to her, but it still made little sense.

"You've been angry with him before, Dr. Brennan. Yes, he lied to all of us, but it seems like he did it for a valid reason."

"Logically, it was a valid reason, for him. But that doesn't change the fact that I no longer wish to work with him." She heard the word liar so loudly in her head Brennan wondered if someone had shouted it.

But how could she work with someone she wasn't sure she could trust?

She picked her head up and met Cam's eyes. "Is that going to be a problem?"

Hell yes, it was a problem, Cam thought, briefly wondering what Sweets would say about all this anger. He would probably say she was using it to cover more confusing emotions. The anger was safer for Dr. Brennan right now.

And if she was using it to cover other emotions, what was she trying to hide from? Was she finally figuring out what was obvious to the rest of them? That Booth clearly had feelings for her? And if she figured that out, did she feel the same way about him?

But the bigger problem at the moment was the partnership. That partnership had sent arrest and conviction rates through the roof in Booth's department. Anything that impacted that could cost the Jeffersonian funding, and make people sitting behind big desks very unhappy.

Which would make Cam very unhappy.

But the scientist in front of her would not easily change her mind. She liked facts and evidence. And she liked to avoid emotion. Separating from Booth was part of that plan.

"It might be a problem," Cam said finally. A year ago, Cam wanted to fire Brennan. Now she lived in fear that she might actually walk away from this job. And lying to her, while she was already reeling from Booth's reappearance, would only make the situation worse.

"Why?" Brennan asked.

Cam crossed her arms over her chest. "Because you have such a great arrest and conviction rate."

Brennan actually seemed to give this some thought for a moment, which gave Cam hope that this wouldn't be as difficult as she feared. "We do have a great conviction rate," Brennan agreed.

"Good," Cam said. She plastered a great big smile on her face. "I'll go call everyone and tell them you and Booth are back together."

"I didn't agree to that. We have a great conviction rate, but we don't actually need to work together to achieve that."

"You don't?" Cam said, clearly questioning the logic.

"No. Booth can go into the field. I'll stay in the lab. You want all information to be relayed through you first, so that's what we'll do."

"So you'll work together…without actually working together?" Cam asked. Only to Dr. Brennan would that kind of twisted logic make sense.

"Yes, that's exactly what I'll do. You can let Booth know." She grabbed what she needed from her desk and brushed past Cam. As far as Brennan was concerned, the matter was settled.

Cam's chin dropped to her chest. Her conversation with Dr. Brennan had gone exactly as she'd expected it to.


	3. Chapter 3

"She said what?" Booth snapped into the phone. Several agents in the outer office looked up at him and he closed the door to prevent them from overhearing the rest of the conversation.

Except the closed door didn't stop Sweets, who entered the office and sat down despite the glare from Booth.

"Well, that's not going to work," Booth said. He turned his back to Sweets. "Listen, Cam, there's someone in my office. I'll call you back."

After an angry stab at the phone to end the call, he threw it to his desk and slumped in his chair. Could this day get any worse?

He looked up to see Sweets staring at him with concern and answered his own question. Yes, it definitely could get worse.

"Is there a problem, Agent Booth?" Sweets asked in that voice that clearly indicated he knew there was a problem and wanted Booth to tell him about it.

The chair tipped back. "No."

The answer was abrupt even for Booth and Sweets raised his eyebrows. "Are you sure?"

"What do you want, Sweets?"

Sweets rested one ankle on his knee. "Why don't you tell me what's going on?"

Booth grabbed a ball and started to toss it into the air to avoid having to look at him. "Bones is mad at me."

Sweets was already aware of that fact. Cam had called him almost immediately after her conversation with Dr. Brennan. Nobody had apparently figured out what he'd done. Yet. "Do you think she has a right to be mad at you, Agent Booth?"

He continued to toss the ball into the air. After several more catches, he stopped and held it in his hand for a moment. "Yeah," he admitted quietly. "I think she has reason to be mad."

Booth knew he should have spoken to Bones personally. He owed her that much. But everything had happened so quickly and he had trusted someone at the Bureau to tell her.

When he found out how that little mix-up had happened, someone was going to pay.

Nodding, Sweets followed the path of the ball with his eyes as it traveled toward the ceiling and back down again.

"Did you try and talk to her?" Sweets asked. He knew this conversation was going to turn very awkward, very quickly, when Booth discovered Sweets was the reason Dr. Brennan hadn't been informed that Agent Booth wasn't really dead.

Booth took his eyes from the ball long enough to shoot a glare toward the psychologist. "She isn't the same person she was two weeks ago."

"Of course she isn't, Agent Booth. She thought you were dead for two weeks. Everyone did. Did you expect them to all just overlook what they'd been through?"

Booth threw the ball hard enough to have it bounce off the ceiling before coming back down. "I did what had to be done."

"I'm not agreeing or disagreeing, Agent Booth."

"Then why are you here, Sweets?"

And here it was. Mentally saying good-bye to his friends and family, he admitted the truth. "It's my fault she wasn't told."

Without a pause, Booth took the ball and threw it at Sweets, missing his head by inches.

Swallowing, Sweets looked from Booth to the baseball that rolled to a stop near his feet. Slowly, he bent over and picked it up. "I had to make a decision quickly," he explained. "I wasn't sure she could keep the secret from Angela, who would tell Hodgins, who would tell Cam. Well, you get the idea."

And he'd been interested in seeing Dr. Brennan's reaction when informed of Booth's death. He'd hoped it would force her to confront emotions she tried to avoid.

He hadn't imagined the aftermath going so terribly wrong. He hadn't really considered any of the participants, or what they might go through because of his decision. It had really been all about him.

His entire body tense from panic, Sweets realized he had no chance of getting out of this alive. He couldn't beat Booth in a fight and wouldn't make it out the door before Booth cleared the desk. The agents in the outer office would probably stand back and watch Booth beat him bloody.

Instead, Booth held out his hand for the baseball. Of all the people he thought would be to blame, not once had he considered the little boy sitting across from him.

Bones would accept Sweets not telling her the truth. That was part of his job, and Brennan didn't trust him and his pseudo-science anyway.

Booth not telling her the truth personally, even if the conversation had been held over the phone in the middle of the night, was a betrayal in her eyes.

Letting out the breath he was holding, Sweets adjusted his tie nervously. "I'd like to-"

"I'm pissed, Sweets," he interrupted. "How dare you screw with my life and my partner's life like this." Booth turned and pointed a finger at him. "This part of the discussion isn't over, but I have bigger problems right now."

Sweets took a breath to start again, but Booth wasn't done yet. "She sees what happened as a betrayal. That I didn't trust her enough to make sure she was informed. She trusted me, you idiot. What the hell kind of psychologist are you?"

Booth felt like one of those cartoon characters Parker enjoyed. The ones that had the red gauge over their heads. Eventually, the character was so angry, the red liquid would explode from the top. Except he knew if he lost it, the red in this room wouldn't be from some imaginary gauge. It would be Sweets' blood, because he felt an almost desperate need to beat the man to a bloody pulp.

Instead, he turned away and forced himself to remember some of the calming techniques he'd used as a sniper. Then, it was to make sure he was calm enough to pull the trigger. Today, Booth needed to make sure he didn't.

"When this is over," he said slowly, turning back to pin Sweets with a look. "We are going to revisit this discussion. At which point, Bones and I will decide if we will ever see you again professionally or personally."

"Okay," Sweets said, relieved to not be dead, yet. He wanted to argue, to protest, but he attempted none of it. There really was no excuse for what he'd done. It had been selfish and self-serving. If Agent Booth and Dr. Brennan decided he wanted to die, he doubted his body would ever be found.

"I would like to try and help fix what I caused," Sweets offered contritely.

Sweets' offer was met with a stare that had him hunching his shoulders and trying to make himself look smaller. He imagined this was what prey felt like, right before it was pounced on.

The ball bounced back and forth between Booth's hands for a long time before he spoke again. "I think that the best thing you could do right now is leave. Disappear. Go home and look in the mirror and decide if this is the person you want to be. Because if this is what kind of psychologist you are, Dr. Sweets, you suck."

Feeling like he'd been reprimanded by his father, Sweets lurched to his feet and turned toward the door. He belatedly wondered if turning his back was a mistake, but it was too late to rectify it. When nothing struck him from behind, he hurried to make his exit.

As he cleared the room, Sweets heard the baseball hit the doorframe next to his head. He was pretty sure he looked like he was running as he turned the corner back toward his office.


	4. Chapter 4

Brennan was bent over the body of a murder victim when Booth swiped his way onto the platform. She didn't look up, didn't acknowledge him at all, much to the surprise of the other team members there with her.

They had already worked through and accepted what Booth had done. But none of them considered him their partner and best friend.

Brennan had felt hollow when Booth was gone, like a part of her was missing, metaphorically at least. He was back and now that missing part of her was full of feelings she was having a difficult time sorting through.

She wasn't ready to share with him what she couldn't share with herself.

After only a moment of being in the same space with the man, Brennan took her plastic gloves off with a snap. "I'll be in my office," she said, directing her comment to Angela.

Too stunned at the behavior to reply, Angela only nodded. She tried to talk to Brennan about what was going on with her and Booth, but had been shut down each time. Apparently, it was worse than she feared.

Without a glance in the other direction, Brennan stepped off the platform, went into her office, and closed the door.

Angela's eyes traveled from the closed office door, to Booth, and back again. "Is there something wrong?" she asked finally.

Booth, too, was staring at the closed office door. "I guess she's still mad."

Rolling her eyes, Angela prayed for patience. "What was your first clue?"

Rubbing a hand over a chin darkened by stubble, Booth sighed. "What have you got on the case?"

But Angela refused to be deterred. "Ignoring this won't make it go away, Booth."

"I know that," he snapped. He waved his hand around the platform. "But neither will discussing it where everyone with ears can hear us."

Taking pity on the obviously exhausted man in front of her, Angela set down her clipboard. "Come on, G-man," she said, grabbing his sleeve and tugging him behind her. "Let's go to my office where we can talk."

Any other day, Booth would have cringed at the thought of being trapped alone with Angela for a talk. The woman had a way of turning everything into a conversation about sex. Today, Booth was desperate for any help he could get.

It had been a week since Brennan had essentially kicked him out of her office. A week since he'd let his temper slip. He'd felt guilty about it every second since then. He didn't want Bones to see that side of him. Ever.

Sweets had disappeared a week ago as well. Booth hadn't seen him since the conversation in his office. In fact, Booth was pretty sure the man was doing everything in his power to avoid him.

"I wondered why we hadn't seen you in a week," Angela said as she closed the door. "That little interaction cleared it right up for me."

Booth dropped into the nearest chair. "I'm pretty sure she's not going to forgive me for this one."

"The rest of us did." Even Angela, who'd been so relieved and mad when Booth first reappeared, that she hadn't been sure whether to hug the man, or hit him.

Booth raised his eyes to hers. "The rest of you don't think the way she does."

Angela chuckled at the truth of that simple statement. "We aren't quite as logical, but it doesn't mean we weren't angry with you at putting us through that. We could just work through it easier than she could."

"She was supposed to be told. Sweets chose not to," Booth explained.

"Is he still among the living?" Before he could respond, Angela sat across from him and waved her hand. "The why of it doesn't matter now. The question is how to fix it."

A pause and Angela continued. "It's not the evidence she needs, you know that right?"

His brow furrowed in confusion. "Of course it is," he argued. "She wants evidence that I didn't betray her by not telling her."

"She has it. You just said it was Sweets' fault she wasn't told. You've told her she was on the list. It's not the evidence, or lack of, she's running from right now."

Leaning forward to rest elbows on knees, Booth let his head fall forward while he shook it. "Then what is she running from, Angela?"

"I didn't see her for two weeks," Angela said, not directly answering his question. Booth had a gift for reading people, but sometimes, when it came to Brennan, he was just blind.

Booth picked his head up. At times he had trouble following Angela's train of thought, but this jump was painfully clear. "She didn't come to work?"

"Her body came to work and her brilliant brain came to work, but the Brennan we both know and love wasn't here."

"I don't love her," Booth argued automatically. Except he did. And he knew it.

Angela quirked an eyebrow at him. "Right," she agreed finally. "I forgot you don't actually admit the feelings you have for each other. You pretend they don't exist and expect the rest of us to just go along with it."

Great, so they all saw it. "Telling Bones I love her isn't going to fix this."

Smiling, Angela wondered if he realized he'd just agreed with her. "My point is," she continued, "Brennan came to work every day, but after she left here, she seemed to just disappear."

"Where'd she go?" Booth asked.

Angela shrugged. "It's only a suspicion, I have no proof."

"Just tell me," he demanded. Booth had already imagined a hundred scenarios, none of them good.

"I'm pretty sure she was at your place."

He hadn't imagined that one. "My place?" he repeated, confused. "What was at my place?"

Angela sighed. "Seriously? It was the closest place she could get to you."

Christ, how many times would these women make him feel like he'd been punched this week. No matter which way he turned, the hits just kept coming.

After watching the blood drain from his face, Angela went to the mini fridge in her office and grabbed him a bottle of water. "You're too big for me to catch if you faint."

"I won't faint," he said, grabbing the bottle of water from her outstretched hand. "I've never fainted."

"I bet Brennan could do a few things to you that would make you come close."

The obviously sexual comment brought the faded color back into Booth's cheeks, which had been Angela's intention. She fought back a smile at his discomfort, before throwing what she saw as the truth at him. "That's what she's running from, Booth. You."

Clearly uncomfortable, he jumped to his feet. "So you called me in here to tell me that she spent two weeks crying in my apartment? Why don't you just kill me for real and put me out of my misery?"

"And," he continued, twisting and untwisting the cap of the bottle, "you're trying to tell me she's pushing me away because she's scared. I wouldn't hurt her."

What Angela was hinting at, was that Bones had feelings for him. Was perhaps in love with him. If that was the case, it made everything that was happening that much clearer.

And that much worse.

A gentle hand touched his sleeve. "But you being gone did hurt her. In a way that's different from how her parents and Russ did. Loving someone, in that all encompassing way that Brennan does everything, is an entirely different beast."

"She doesn't love me," Booth argued automatically. Even if he desperately wanted to believe that she did.

Remembering her own pain, Angela shuddered to think of what Brennan had tried to get through on her own. "She hid from everything and everyone for two weeks. We all knew what this was doing to her, but she wouldn't let us help her."

Booth held up his hand. "I get the idea, Angela. Don't tell me any more, okay." Because it hurt him too much. It made him want to hunt Sweets down and threaten him all over again. Just because he needed an outlet for all his emotions.

"She will come around, Booth," Angela reassured him. And not just for something to say. She truly believed it. "She just has to work through all those emotions. I don't think she can walk away from you."

"That's the problem, Angela," he said, gripping the bottle tightly enough that it began to collapse in his fist, "it feels like she already has."


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: This chapter's a little longer. I didn't think you'd mind. Thank you for all of the reviews._

Latching on to the one statement that gave him hope, that Bones would come around, Booth knocked on the closed door of her office and let himself in.

"Dr. Brennan," he said softly. The greeting sounded wrong to his ears, but it was what she wanted. And he would do just about anything to get her to talk to him.

Was Angela right? Was the reason Bones was avoiding him because she discovered she had feelings for him? Had his fake death been some sort of catalyst?

And if it was, would she finally come to terms with what she'd discovered about herself? Or would she push him so far away, he had no choice but to leave?

Not that leaving her would ever be an option, at least for him. And he had no intention of letting her get very far. But she had a tendency not to see things the way he did.

He thought she looked more tired than a week ago, when she'd severed their partnership permanently. Like some of her famous confidence had disappeared. He knew what nightmares had woken him in the past week. Were hers the same?

Her eyes flew up at the greeting and before she put the mask on, Booth saw disappointment. Was she disappointed he was there, or disappointed he hadn't called her Bones?

"Hey, Booth," she said. While cool, her tone was a bit more welcoming that it had been a week ago. "Is there something I can help you with?"

She'd missed him. Despite the words she'd said to him a week ago, Brennan didn't want to go back to looking at old dusty bones. Going out in the field, with him, had brought something into her life she hadn't known she was missing.

And while the logical side of her brain was quickly rationalizing what he'd done, it was going to take a little longer for her to accept that leaving her had been an unintended side effect, not the purpose of his little disappearing act.

Apparently, he hadn't been running away from her. Her brain knew it, but that heart muscle, the one wasn't supposed to feel anything at all, wasn't quite there yet.

And while she could accept all of that, it was her feelings she was having a little more trouble sorting through. If love was really just a bunch of chemicals that didn't last, why had she felt as if her world was shattered when he was gone? A world that she knew she wouldn't be able to rebuild without him in it.

Wouldn't that indicate she felt more for him that she currently acknowledged?

She tilted her head and watched him, mentally asking herself the question she'd avoided for weeks.

Was it possible she was in love with her best friend?

"I miss you," he said, before he had time to stop the words from coming out of his mouth. He had waited, hoping she would make the first move. But instead she watched him, studied him, like her old bones, until he'd become too uncomfortable under her scrutiny not to say something.

"I miss you coming out in the field with me. I miss talking to you about our cases and about our lives." And holding the door for you, and touching your back as we walk away. All those little things you don't realize you do for a person, until you can't anymore.

Nothing had helped the past week, not talking to Cam or Angela, and definitely not Sweets. They all told him the same thing: she would come around. He figured the only way to do that was to give her the truth, no matter how uncomfortable it made both of them. It might not help, but at this point Booth didn't figure it could get any worse.

And if she was questioning how she felt about him, he was going to make sure there were no doubts on how he felt about her.

When she let the mask fall, her eyes were filled with sadness. "I find I'm still quite angry with you. I don't know why you'd miss that."

Crossing the room, he grabbed both her hands and pulled her to her feet. Her skin was cool, and he resisted the urge to squeeze her hands tightly in his. Instead, he tugged her to the couch to sit with him.

Brennan could have resisted, but she was so confused by what she was feeling that she couldn't decide what to do. So, for the moment, she let him take her where he wanted them to go.

"I'd never had a partner before you," he said. They were both sitting on the couch and Booth had dropped her hands. They now rested in her lap and a part of him wished he hadn't let go. "And I won't let them pair me with anyone else. So why wouldn't I want you to come out there with me? Even if you're angry. We've been angry with each other before."

She kept her eyes on her hands. For a moment, they'd actually been warm again. They hadn't been warm since the day Booth was shot. "They told me you died. Those two weeks," she shook her head, refusing to revisit them. "You left me," she accused.

"I made a decision, Bones." Her eyes lifted at the use of the nickname and Booth wondered if he'd make a mistake. When she didn't say anything, he took it as a good sign and continued. "It was the only chance I had to catch this guy. And I thought you would be taken care of."

"You should have called me yourself!" she said, half yelling. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to lower her voice. "You should have trusted me enough to do that."

"Bones, when you go undercover, you don't tell anyone not on the list. Period. Not your partner, not your friends, no one. And you don't make phone calls to people on the list. To do so puts everyone and everything at risk." He stood up and moved away from her. "I won't put you at risk."

Brennan wished he would turn around so she could see his face. When he didn't, she also stood.

"So you didn't call me to protect me?" she asked. Confused by all of it, Brennan closed her eyes and rubbed at her forehead. "I don't need protecting, Booth. I never have."

When she opened her eyes again, Booth had turned to face her. "Wouldn't you do the same for me?" he asked.

She tried to shut off the emotional part of her mind and only think with the logic. What would she do if the situation was reversed? She honestly didn't know.

Brennan knew all too well the pain that came from being left behind. Her parents and Russ had taught her that lesson early. Booth hadn't left her for the same reasons, but the result had been the same.

She'd been alone, again. And the thought that he would do that to her, even knowing her history, was a betrayal she was trying to figure out how to live with.

If she'd known he was alive, would she have stayed away? Or would his absence have made her question the truth of the secret in the lie? Was it possible she would have put everything at risk just to ease her own mind?

Booth's brown eyes were filled with more emotions than she could quickly identify. But despite her lack of ability in reading human emotions, she was sure one of them was regret.

It was an emotion she'd become very familiar with over the last week.

"Are you sorry, Booth?"

Booth took the chip he always carried out of his pocket and flipped it into the air. "For hiding out to catch the bad guy, no. For hurting you," he paused, wondering how honest to be with her. "For hurting you, I'd get down on my knees and apologize every day of my life if that's what it took to get you to forgive me."

Feeling her eyes fill, Brennan closed them, hoping Booth didn't see. She knew the wish was futile, but his brutal honesty was more than she could handle.

"Shit, Bones," she heard him say. At the sound of his footsteps her eyes flew open and she backed away quickly before he could touch her.

"Not yet, Booth," she said, stopping his forward movement with the words. "I'm not ready yet."

He shoved his hands in his pockets and stood awkwardly in the center of the room. "Not ready for what, Bones?"

"I'm not ready to forgive you. I'm not ready to not be angry. I need a little more time. I'm not ready to admit or acknowledge everything your death brought to the surface."

He watched her, wondering exactly what she was referring to. "What can't you acknowledge?" he managed to choke out. His heart thundered in his chest as he faced the truth of Angela's words. She was running from him, but not for the reasons he'd assumed.

Her eyes flew to his. She'd said that aloud? Shaking her head, she refused to answer.

Booth wanted to push her and demand she explain. To scoop her up and tell her that two weeks apart had felt like two lifetimes for him, and he'd at least known she was still alive.

Instead he took a step back from her. She narrowed her eyes, wondering why he was giving in so easily, and thankful that he was.

"I'll give you all he time you need," he promised her. Booth just hoped she didn't take too long.

Time was all he had lately. Time to remember, time to regret. If only time could make him forget what living each day without her felt like. "When you're ready, I'll be here. All you have to do is call."


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: To all of you who wanted Sweets to get his...I hope you aren't disappointed._

 _Thanks for sticking with me!_

Brennan knocked on the door, not waiting for a response before entering. Her movements were brisk and abrupt, outward signs of her internal struggles.

Looking up from the file, Sweets covered his shock at her appearance. Booth had his say, she would have hers as well.

Coming around his desk, he approached her slowly, not stopping until stood directly in front of her. "Dr. Brennan, I'm glad you came. I want to apol-"

The slap rang out like a gunshot in the office.

"I don't want your apology," she said. "I'm here to tell you how this is going to go."

Stunned, Sweets raised a hand to his cheek and nodded slowly. He'd known physical violence was a concern when Booth learned the truth. Sweets now realized he was a fool for not assuming the same of Dr. Brennan.

Her anger ran cold and deep, fueled by evidence and logic he had no hope of arguing against.

It made her the more dangerous of the two.

She stood with her hands on the back of the couch, grabbing it so tightly her knuckles were white. "You and you pseudo-science," she spit at him, "are a disservice to everything Booth and I stand for."

Backing away, Sweets didn't stop until the desk was between them. Her eyes were triumphant as he moved.

He could feel the heat on his cheek where her hand had made contact. Should he be happy she'd only slapped him, as opposed to the punch Booth had received?

"Did you get what you wanted?" she asked. "Did you get all of the information you needed for your book?"

Two weeks of pain and torment for a book. She wrote best-sellers and at no point did she need to lie to someone to write one. Just further proof of the ridiculousness of his science.

Brennan hadn't figured out her feelings for Booth yet, but she knew exactly how she felt about the man in front of her.

Had she been a different person, what Sweets had done could have destroyed her. There were nights she wasn't sure she could live without Booth. What if she had done something drastic based on Sweets' lie?

All the secrets. All the lies. And people thought she was cruel for always saying the truth.

"Yes," he offered softly. "I got what I wanted."

"Good," she said, nodding her head. "Because no one is ever going to see it."

"Wh…What?" he stuttered out. He'd been working on that book for the better part of a year. It was one of the reasons he'd taken this job to begin with.

"Your book," Brennan said slowly, as if she was talking to someone with a much lower IQ. Which she was, as far as she was concerned. "No one is ever going to see it."

"I have a publisher," Sweets argued. "It's arranged."

"It was until this morning, when I called your publisher and told him what happened. I'm sure if you check your email, you'll discover your project's been dropped."

Shocked, he looked from her to his computer and back again. "Go ahead," she said, "I'll wait."

Frantic, he pulled up his email, to find exactly what she said he would. Not only had his book been dropped, but he had been dropped as well.

Slowly, he raised his eyes back to her. Suddenly, Booth threatening his life seemed like the better deal. She was going to ruin his career.

Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Sweets dropped into his chair. He leaned back until there was nothing in his vision but the ceiling. "What do you want from me?"

Brennan couldn't read people as Booth could, but she knew she'd won. He'd do what she asked, or she'd destroy him professionally.

Sweets wasn't the only one who could play games. For a psychologist, he certainly didn't pick his opponents well.

"First," she said, drawing his attention back to her. "You will never tell Booth this conversation took place. I will tell him, when I choose to." And she would tell him, when she was speaking to him again. The same mistake wouldn't be made a second time.

He nodded, knowing that wasn't really much of a request. Sweets had done everything in his power to avoid Agent Booth anyway.

"Second, you are going to request a transfer."

His breath caught in his chest. "To where?"

She shrugged. "Any place but here."

"Dr. Brennan," he pleaded. "You're going to ruin my career."

"Incorrect. You ruined your career. Besides, with a transfer, to a location where no one knows you, you might actually be able to salvage it."

"Please," he pleaded again. He was sweating, his shirt damp beneath his coat.

His plea fell on deaf ears. "Psychology isn't much of a career though, so I'm not confident there is anything to save."

Dr. Brennan with her logic, would not be swayed by his emotions. She would need evidence, proof, that this would never happen again if he had any hope of staying.

"Is there anything I could possibly say that would change your mind?" Sweets frantically racked his brain for anything that could prove this wouldn't happen again.

She laughed and any hope Sweets had died with the sound. "You treated me like an experiment. A person who had no value, other than the reactions you tried to manipulate. Why would I ever give you a chance to do that to me again?"

"I would like a chance to explain," he argued. "To apologize and make things right." He was building a life here, a career. How would he explain the transfer to people? He'd have to start a new book on a new topic. All for one little mistake.

Her message relayed, Brennan moved to leave. She had better things to do. "I'll give you twenty-four hours," she said, opening the door. It was clear she had no intention of even entertaining his offer. "Decide where you want to go and put in for the transfer."

Finding his courage, Sweets jumped from his chair. "And what if I don't?" She couldn't really make him leave.

A look was all it took for him to understand exactly what he'd be risking if he didn't do as she requested. She'd ruin him, professionally. Booth would help her, as would every other person who worked with her in the lab. There really were no options.

Accepting his fate, Sweets nodded his head slowly. "I'll let you know where I'm going."

"Don't bother," she said, exiting the office. "Just make sure you go."


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: I'm almost afraid to post this chapter after the wonderful reaction to the last one. I hope everyone enjoys it just as much._

On day eight, he wrote her a letter. In it he confessed everything. His regrets, his hopes and dreams for the two of them. How the two weeks in the safe house had felt to him. It consumed a good portion of his afternoon, time that should have been spent reviewing reports.

The same day, he also received a note from Sweets, informing Booth of his transfer to an office in Wyoming. Booth wondered at the timing, but gave it little thought. It was probably for the best.

On day nine, he tore up his note to Bones, knowing she wouldn't want sentimentality. She was all about facts and evidence, not feelings.

Day ten was rainy and long. He wanted lunch at the diner, but refused to go without Bones. After eating a bag of chips at his desk, he gave up trying to focus and went home.

Day eleven was a Saturday. Unfortunately, he spent it at work, completing the reports he should have spent the last three days doing. Bones usually helped him with these things. He needed a calculator for math she usually did in her head.

How long was it going to take her to be ready? That was the question. A week, a month, a year, a lifetime? How long should Booth wait before pushing the issue again? How long would Brennan avoid him, trying to rationalize what he'd done and the feelings it had brought to the surface?

It was hard to love her from a distance. To wonder if she was okay. She'd always talked to him about her feelings and concerns, but now that it was about him, she'd put up an impenetrable wall.

He came up with plans. He'd show her how much she meant to him by doing this and that. She'd call and he'd rush to her office, taking her to lunch, to dinner, dancing.

Romance. He'd convince of his feelings with romance and flowers. Of course, she'd probably think getting flowers were ridiculous. An environmental waste, or something like that. He didn't care.

As the days passed, he lost some of his hope. Bones was stubborn. How would he learn to live without her if she never found her way back to him?

He gave it another week. Another week of waiting for her to call. Of dealing with the heartsickness that came each time the phone rang and her voice wasn't at the other end of the line.

Cam called him several times with news about the case, but when he'd asked about Bones, her answers had been vague. He'd tried Angela, too, but her answers had been even less reassuring than Cam's.

It was when he was faced with another night of eating take-out alone that he picked the phone to dial her number. He was shocked when she answered, but before he could say a word, she said three that sent him right back where he'd started.

"Not yet, Booth."

When the click sounded in his ear, he'd tossed the phone across his apartment. Stomping to his bedroom, he yanked a drawer open hard enough to pull it from his dresser. T-shirts spilled to the floor.

"Not yet," he muttered, tossing shirts to the side to find the one he wanted. "Not yet. I'm starting to think this is never going to end."

Where was it? Where was his favorite shirt from the FBI? The grey one that Parker had given him last Christmas. It was always in this drawer. Where was it?

Resting on his heels, he surveyed the disaster around him. There were shirts all over, but not one of them was the shirt he wanted.

He was getting ready to go to the laundry to look for it, when it occurred to him where it might be. Bones had been in his apartment while he was gone. Perhaps, she took a little keepsake.

So what was he to do about it? She'd clearly told him she wasn't ready yet, but he was more than ready to be done with all of this. And the shirt gave him the perfect excuse to go over to her place and talk to her again.

Making the decision, he grabbed the first t-shirt he put his hands on. It wasn't the one he wanted, but the more he thought about it, the more he was sure Bones had that one. Was probably wearing it right now.

He worked himself into a fine mood on the drive to her place. She had the nerve to blame him for this whole thing when it was clearly her fault. Excuse him for thinking she would be able to rationalize his death. She rationalized everything else, why would this time be any different?

Besides, he'd made sure she was on the list. How was it his fault the little boy psychologist had made such a foolish decision? She should be refusing to talk to him, not Booth.

And then she had the nerve to steal his favorite t-shirt? The one his son gave him for Christmas. Didn't she know what that shirt meant to him? And if she was so upset by his death, what the hell was she doing in his apartment? The Bones he knew and loved certainly didn't make it appear she felt the same way about him. He'd be devastated if something happened to her, but she'd obviously survived. Angela even said she'd gone to work.

Hell, he'd been in love with her for a long time, but had she noticed? Of course not! She as too busy looking at her old bones to actually pay attention to him. And he was a lot nicer looking.

Booth was on such a roll, he didn't realize the direction his thoughts had taken.

When she opened the door, Booth noticed immediately she was wearing the T-shirt he'd spent the last hour looking for. It was enough to send him over whatever edge he'd been standing on.

She opened her mouth to say something to him. He could see her lips starting to move. But before she got the chance, and before the logical side of his brain kicked back in, he invaded her space, cupped her face in his hands and kissed her.

All of his carefully plotted details were thrown to the side. There would be time for romance later. If she didn't kill him for this first.

He would either push the whole issue out in the open or send her running to the nearest deserted island.

Which was fine, too. He needed a vacation. And a deserted island meant they wouldn't be disturbed.

Small hands grabbed his shirt and he expected to be pushed away, but she pulled him closer. She tasted of some minty toothpaste that shouldn't have been sexy, but was.

Booth had enough sense left to back them into the wall, and kick the door closed behind them. After that there was nothing but heat.

His teeth nibbled, before his lips returned to plunder hers. He gave her no chance to think, to take a breath deep enough to stop him. He simply took. He took everything she had to give and demanded more.

The little sounds she was making in the back of her throat were driving him wild. He was reaching for the hem of her shirt, close to the moment when all sense was gone, when she shifted her hands to pushing, instead of pulling.

He drew back just far enough to rest his forehead against hers. "You stole my t-shirt," he said. The words came between shallow breaths. If she didn't ask him to stay, it would take more than one cold shower to make it through the evening.

With their heads pressed together, she couldn't look down at herself. Pretty sure he was right, her brain hadn't actually kicked back in yet, she shrugged. "I didn't figure you'd need it anymore."

She pushed a little harder against his chest and he took a step back. One step only. He rested his hands on the wall, one on each side of her head. She was effectively trapped. "Let me go, Booth."

He shook his head. "Not until we settle this, Bones." But he stepped back and leaned against the closed door. He noticed her face was flushed and took pride in the reaction she'd had to him.

She copied his stance. "I thought you were going to wait until I was ready."

It was his turn to shrug. "You stole my t-shirt. It made me angry. And the more I thought about what was going on between us, the angrier I got."

"So that was an angry kiss?" She wondered what his other kisses felt like.

One corner of his mouth lifted. "Among other things."

Brennan sighed. "So where does this leave us?"

"Where do you want it to leave us, Bones? If there is any question about how I feel about you at this point, I'd be happy to show you again."


	8. Chapter 8

She was going to argue, he could see it in her eyes. Reaching forward, he grabbed the front of t-shirt that got him over there, and used it to pull her to him.

In a move so smooth it seemed as if he'd practiced it, he turned her so she was pressed against the door. Stepping into her, he gave her no time to stop him before his lips were pressed against hers again.

The kiss was softer this time, but no less heated. He wasn't sure if she was trying to say something when she opened her mouth, but he took advantage of it. Booth took a moment to explore her mouth, before pulling back a second time.

"Is it clear now?" he asked.

She laughed softly and ducked under his arms to move further into her apartment. "A third demonstration won't be necessary at the moment."

Booth followed her, not allowing her to escape him. He was fascinated by her bare feet as they carried her across the floor. He let his eyes travel up from there, imagining what the rest of her would look like, if it was as bare as her feet. "Are you saying there could be more moments?"

She stopped at the fridge and grabbed them both a beer. "You're impossible," she said. She was finding it hard to remember why she'd been mad at him in the first place.

Her very alive and very sexy partner was standing right there in her apartment.

He'd kissed her silent.

Twice.

What would it take to get him to stay?

She opened the bottle and took a long drink. It did nothing to cool the heat racing through her blood. "Logically, those kisses solve nothing."

As he took the beer, he let his fingers brush against hers. "Logically, you avoiding me hasn't solved anything either," he countered.

Brennan looked at him, standing there in a t-shirt and sweats. She'd had two weeks without him. Two weeks when she wondered if she'd missed out on something great. She had just started to come to grips with the fact that, yes, she had missed out, when he reappeared in her life.

Realizing that she still had a chance had scared her enough to get her to walk away. Seeing him and knowing what she could have if she was brave enough to take it had metaphorically tied her stomach in knots.

And of course, she'd wondered if he had any feelings for her at all.

He had taken care of that little concern.

Booth was familiar with the look on her face when her wheels were turning. There were times he wished she was one of those people who thought out loud, just so he could hear all of the fascinating things going on in her head.

"I'm here if you want to talk about it," he offered.

She gave him a look of annoyance. "I can't talk about this with you."

"Why not?"

She pressed her lips together. "Because it's about you."

"Oh." He took a drink of the beer to cover his chuckle. "So who does that leave you with?"

"Why should I stop being mad at you?" she asked suddenly. "Give me one good reason why I should not be mad at you."

He almost blurted out that he was in love with her. But that wouldn't be the answer she wanted to hear. Love was just a mixture of chemicals according to her, and not a reason to trust someone.

"In my defense, you were supposed to be told, Bones. I trusted you enough to put you on that list."

"I realize that now," she admitted. "Was I the only one on the list not told?"

"You were the only one on the list that wasn't family. Other than the people from the FBI who were in on the plan, and my family, you were the only one that I cared enough about to put on the list."

"Cam and the other people who know you should have been on that list."

He emptied the beer bottle and set it on the counter. Wearily, he walked to her couch and slumped on it. "None of those people would have cared quite as much."

Brennan followed him, sitting not quite next to him, but close enough to touch. "Logically, Booth, that doesn't make any sense."

His shoulders lifted quickly. "None of the past month has made much sense to me, Bones. I didn't expect you to be so angry, even if you weren't told." Reaching over with steady fingers, he grasped her hand. "I didn't realize what I meant to you."

A heavy sigh escaped his lips. "It seemed like such a good idea at the time. Catch a bad guy, quick and easy. Sweets should have told you. I should have told you."

"Once I got past the anger," she said, "I realized I'd been too hard on you. It must have been very hard being alive, knowing everyone thought you were dead."

He turned his head. "Yeah, it pretty much sucked."

"But I couldn't figure out how to tell you I wasn't mad anymore. We've never had a big fight before."

"How long ago did you figure all this out?" he asked. He turned his eyes back to the ceiling. He'd been going through hell for weeks and she wasn't even mad anymore?

Moving from the couch, Brennan grabbed her cell phone and handed it to him. "About ten seconds before you showed up."

 _I want to talk. Bring take-out._

Booth read the text with some amusement. He might have received the message if he hadn't tossed his phone across the apartment after he'd tried to call her. It seemed they'd both hit the point of being done with this fight at about the same time.

Picking at the label on the bottle, Brennan suddenly felt very awkward. "There's something I need to tell you."

Booth turned his head to the side to look at her. Her tone of voice had changed and he had a feeling she wasn't talking about the two of them anymore. "You can tell me anything."

"I sent Sweets away," she blurted out. If they were going to move forward, together, she had to tell him what she'd done.

And suddenly, the random note from Sweets made perfect sense. "You sent him to Wyoming?"

"Is that where he went? I didn't know."

Shaking his head, Booth tried not to laugh. "What exactly did you do to him?"

"I hit him. It wasn't logical."

"You tend to hit people when you're angry," he reminded her, rubbing his jaw. "That shouldn't have been enough to get him to leave."

"It wasn't. I got his book canceled and threatened to ruin him professionally if he didn't leave."

His jaw dropped open before he quickly closed it again. "Remind me never to piss you off again, Bones."

Brennan stood and took her empty bottle to the kitchen. "You've made me mad plenty of times, Booth, but you'd never hurt me. He hurt me and didn't care about the consequences."

Turning back, she met his eyes. They were solid, and steady, sure in the conclusion she had come to. "He hurt you, too. Partners protect each other."

He also stood and came toward her. She was still the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. "Are you saying we're partners again?"

"I can take care of that in the morning."

"I'd like to kiss you again," he said. Reaching out, he traced his knuckles down her cheek. Maybe there would be time for romance after all.

Her eyes flew to his. "So that first kiss wasn't just an angry kiss?" He really felt that way about her. And was willing to take a chance on it? How did that make any sense?

"Oh no," he said, suddenly cheerful. "It definitely was."

"I don't know what that means." So he'd only kiss her if he was mad at her? She briefly wondered what she could say to make him angry again.

Grabbing her hand, he tugged hard, forcing her to slide up against him. "You don't have to make me angry to get me to kiss you again."

She tipped her head up to look at him. "How do you do that?"

Bending over, he kissed the corner of her mouth. "I know how you think," he whispered as he adjusted his aim to allow his lips to brush against hers.

Her pulse was racing again. He moved his head to press his lips to that spot on her neck. "Why do you keep doing that?" she gasped.

"I'm hoping you'll get used to it and let me do it all the time."

She moved her head so she could see him clearly and seemed to consider it. "You are an excellent kisser. You have great technique."

Booth laughed. "I've had weeks to think about how to kiss you."

She sobered. "Me, too, except I didn't think I'd ever get the chance."

Licking her lips, she considered her next words. "Do you only know how to kiss?"

He raised his eyebrows. Was he mistaken, or was that a hint of invitation in her voice?

She pulled away from him to head toward her bedroom. "Hey, Booth," she called as she walked away.

"Yeah?"

"Why don't you come see if you can get your t-shirt back?"


	9. Epilogue

Sweets bundled into his coat, boots, and gloves, longing for the warmer, wetter weather he'd experienced in DC. It had been three years since he'd left, but the feeling of wistfulness for that time of his life had never quite left.

He'd done what both Agent Booth and Dr. Brennan had asked. Wyoming hadn't been his first choice, but there was an opening and he took it. There were a few questions, but rumors had already made it up the ladder as to what exactly happened between his two colleagues. If he hadn't asked, it was pretty clear he wasn't going to get to stay anyway.

As Agent Booth had recommended, he also considered what kind of person he wanted to be. Despite his youth, people here trusted him, something he'd worked hard to achieve since his first day. He was careful to do nothing to risk losing it.

As he turned to lock his office, a young man approached him. Recognizing him as a young agent, Sweets hoped he didn't need anything pressing. The snow was falling rapidly outside and Sweets wanted to get home while he could still see the roads.

"Good evening, Dr. Sweets. This was just dropped off for you and I wanted to make sure you got it before you went home."

Curious, Sweets looked at the envelope in the agent's hand. Pulling off one glove with his teeth, Sweets took it from the man's outstretched hand.

The postmark caught his attention first. He hadn't had any mail from DC since the day he'd left. It was a standard envelope with no return address. Nothing to indicate what might be inside.

"Thank you," he said. Turning away, he unlocked the door of his office and went back inside, making sure it closed securely behind him.

Slowly, he took off the other glove and his coat, returning to sit at his desk. He laid the envelope down in front of him, staring at it for a long time.

No one here knew of his time in Washington. He was careful about what he shared. It was an incident he wasn't proud of, and he didn't want his past mistakes to color people's opinions of him.

Still, barely a week went by without him thinking of the people he'd left behind. Usually, it was Agent Booth and Dr. Brennan that he thought of the most. He hoped he hadn't done permanent damage to their relationship, with no way to find out without someone asking uncomfortable questions, he tried not to focus on it.

A little surprised to see his hands were shaking, he turned the envelope over and tore it open. Out fell a letter and a picture. The picture landed face down and he hesitated to turn it over.

Instead, he reached for the letter, unfolding it slowly. He was surprised to find he still recognized Agent Booth's handwriting.

 _Dr. Sweets -_

 _I thought you might be interested in this._

 _Booth_

That was it. No questions on how Sweets was doing, no sharing of information. Not that Sweets expected it. But considering just the letter was unexpected, he couldn't be disappointed with whatever he received.

Still, Agent Booth knew enough about Sweets to locate him. He could have gone through channels at the Bureau, but Sweets had a feeling it wasn't the first time the agent had checked up on him.

Sweets wasn't sure if that piece of knowledge made him happy or sad.

Sighing, he finally reached for the picture. As he turned it face up, a delighted smile slowly grew on his face.

It was Dr. Brennan and Agent Booth, on their wedding day.

 _A/N: This is the end of this tale. I want to thank everyone for the wonderful comments and hope you enjoyed the story._

 _Until next time..._


End file.
